


Veela for the Weekend

by notealeft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Bottom Harry Potter, Creature Fic, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sexual Tension, Top Draco Malfoy, Valentine's Day, Veela Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notealeft/pseuds/notealeft
Summary: “Sorry to have to break it to you, my boy,” Head Auror Robards told Harry. “But you’re a Veela for the weekend.”After being hit by an illegal potion during fieldwork, Harry is temporarily turned into a Veela - and the Allure, much to his horror, is so powerful and terrible that everyone, including his friends, is suddenly helplessly besotted with him. Certainly also Draco Malfoy, who becomes even more annoying and detestable now that he’s trying to bend Harry over a nightstand.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 90
Kudos: 834
Collections: A Very Drarry Valentine's Day Exchange





	Veela for the Weekend

_Good morning, Britain, you wondrous home to Greatness and Marmite! It's exactly eleven o’clock on Friday the Twelfth of February! The year is 1999 - and what a thrilling year it's already been! You loyal listeners know what I'm talking about of course! The Weird Sisters released another number one hit, the Chudley Cannons inexplicably lead the Quidditch league table, and House-elves have a few rights now? What an era to be alive in; exciting times! The future is now! It's a blast all around, absolutely, no question about it, and the music says as much. This hour we have coming up - oh, what? Alright, wait - oh, so, I'm just getting some truly disastrous breaking news from our producer: there's been an attack on our national treasure! Harry Potter, our Boy Hero, was just admitted to St Mungo’s! Let's go to our field reporter who just Apparated down to the hospital to get the exclusive scoop - hear it only here on the Wizarding Wireless Channel One - in just a few minutes! First, some words from our main sponsor: Honeydukes, proud supporter of the W.W.C., presents the new, fantastic, ultra-flavourful Exploding Bonbon Hearts just in time for Valentine’s Day -_

-

"Sorry to have to break it to you, my boy," Head Auror Robards told Harry. "But you're a Veela for the weekend."

"I'm a what now?" Harry asked incredulously. He had just woken up, groggy and dehydrated, and found himself sat on a stiff bed in St Mungo’s. In the quarantine unit of all places. He ran his hands through his hair and reached for his glasses on the nightstand, placed there by someone on a frilly handkerchief. As he pushed them up his nose, he discovered Robards wasn't in the same room as him. Not exactly. Robards was behind a tinted glass pane and was resolutely not looking directly at Harry. 

He was trapped behind this glass, Harry realised slowly. He was imprisoned.

"It's a new kind of weapon they got you with. Continental European stuff, obviously, those bastards. It’s false Veelalia, the potion induces Veela symptoms to manifest in the victim."

Harry swung his legs down from the bed. The front of his jumper was covered in what looked like ink blotches, but the rest of him was perfectly fine. Not a hair amiss.

"What are you on about, sir? I feel fine. The phial they threw at me didn't -"

"You fainted, Pot-"

"I felt lightheaded, yes, but -"

"If someone hadn't dived over to you and caught you, your head would have split open on the cobblestones."

"That's an exaggeration! And falling unconscious, or rather, actually, _asleep_ in the middle of a fight, that can _happen_ , sir. The fumes were pleasant and I dozed off standing up -"

"Harry, you're a Veela now," Robards interrupted his gibberish ramblings.

"What does that even mean!" Harry cut in, stalking to the safety glass barrier. Robards backed away as he approached. 

Harry was firmly in the grasp of hysteria. "One can't _become_ a Veela! It's not like Lycanthrophy!"

"The potion -"

"They barely hit me! And why would they hit me! What reason -" Harry protested. 

Robards said, "We don't know why yet. All that's clear is that you fainted, started glowing like the sun according to the other Auror trainees present, and are now a -"

"Did Malfoy say that?" Harry asked, irate. "He's just trying to sabotage me with that bollocks! He's always making snide remarks about how I'm not that good of an Auror - but then he's also trying to sneak peeks at my desk during exams! In fact, I catch him looking all the bloody time -"

"It wasn't Draco Malfoy - It was Weasley. Your mate Ronald said you were shimmering and suddenly became increasingly handsome and he almost -" Robards faltered, massaging his temples. "Harry, I have to leave. You're to stay here."

"What! No, I'm not! There's _no way_ \- this is _ridiculous_ . I have to write up my report for the day or I'll lose points in the top student race - and then Malfoy will win! Do you want him to be the best Auror-in-training! He'll never stop gloating! You think there’s a limit to his _condescension_! He will never stop rubbing it in my -"

"Potter, please calm down. Your Veela allure is making you shine even brighter - when you get agitated, it gets bloody worse. The nurses will come by to explain the specifics, alri-"

"What! No, not _alright_! Not at all!" Harry hammered on the glass as Robards slunk away.

"The other Auror trainees might stop by after being checked for potion splatters." Robards squeezed out the door, keeping his eyes off Harry still. "If they dare."

-

_Patient file: Harry James Potter._

_Patient has contracted temporary Veelalia (classified: Pseudo Veelalia) due to being doused in foreign elixir (origin unknown, likely East European)._

_Estimated potency and duration of Potion's effect: high; 48 hours._

_Extent of effect: gained Veela Allure, passive and active._

_Passive effect: when coming in contact with Patient, the affected experience mild to strong discomfort in their chest (psychosomatic pain, called in layperson's language, 'love'), anxious perspiration, heat in their loins, increased drive to gain various levels of physical intimacy with Patient, general all-encompassing attraction when Patient is in their vicinity or line of sight._

_Active effect: not tested, caused by Patient's level of agitation or desire, could be fatal for the affected if they cannot copulate with Patient -_

-

A little while later, Harry's friends did come by his glass cage, like visitors to a sad exhibit they didn't wish to attend. Harry could tell Ron was steeling himself and Neville was holding his breath. Lavender couldn't even make it through the door, running away screaming bloody murder, like she’d just seen Fenrir Greyback again, as soon as she spotted Harry. Draco Malfoy, the unfeeling, snobbish prick, only raised an eyebrow at Harry and smirked, eyes glinting.

"Glad to see you're alright, mate," Ron managed to spit out through gritted teeth.

Neville nodded, his eyes dancing from floor to ceiling without ever landing on Harry.

"Is it really so bad?" Harry asked morosely when his friends refused to come any closer to the glass.

"What?" Ron asked, putting his balled fists into his eye sockets, expression a cross between pained and that of a lovesick dunce. 

Harry paced from bed to window and glanced between his friends - plus Malfoy. "Do I really have Veela Charm now?"

"I can’t even look at you,” Neville grunted, pulling at his own hair.

"Oh, come on, Nev,” Ron chided Neville before half-turning to Harry with his eyes still covered. “Not bad at all, mate. Just stay here for the weekend. Take a rest, take a break! Stay away from your fan club!”

“It physically hurts,” Neville complained desperately. 

Ron shrugged and threw his hands up in the air, gesticulating wildly. “So what if you’re Veela! My sister-in-law is too! I can handle it, I’m a _man_ , mate! I’m not fussed! I'm strong! I'm in love with Hermione, I won't jump you! I'm a bloody _man_!”

Neville was now kneeling in the corner of the room, cooing at a plant and whispering, “You’re so beautiful, Harry. So _pretty_.”

Harry frowned at his friends’ antics and looked at Malfoy. The posh twit had crossed his arms and was casually leaning against the wall as if Harry had no effect on him at all. 

Or perhaps he wasn't affected? There existed those born with a strong will who had a natural immunity to Veelas. Didn't Malfoy's bull-, or rather knobheadedness qualify as strength of will?

"Is the Veela allure getting to you too, Malfoy?" Harry asked, sounding too keen, too hopeful. What was he hoping for, though? That Malfoy had not lost his mind? That he still haughtily looked down at Harry, insulting and irritating him, never relenting or tiring of his sarcastic remarks about Harry's hair, always sardonically complimenting Harry’s Muggle clothes or the way he held his cutlery? Worse, Malfoy being unaffected would reveal him as an incredibly powerful Wizard. Harry didn't want that prick's ego to grow any bigger.

But, did Harry wish for Malfoy to look the fool, drooling over Harry, suffering from unwanted attraction? Would that be funny or nightmarish?

Malfoy pushed away from the wall and stepped up to the ceiling-to-floor glass partition. He drawled, " _Absolutely_ it is. I am deeply affected. Very difficult to hold myself back here - I am trying not to smash the glass.”

Harry swallowed thickly as Malfoy pressed a finger onto the glass in imitation of how he poked and threatened Harry daily, telling him how well he’d performed in their last class or demanding they get lunch from the Auror canteen. 

“I want to slam you against the wall…" Malfoy trailed off and Harry thought that sounded pretty similar to the fights they had in Auror training on the regular. It sounded normal, typical Malfoy meanness, all in order, until Malfoy licked his lips and let his eyes roam over Harry's body with a nasty leer.

"I want to fuck you over that nightstand," Malfoy hissed at him.

"Dear Merlin," Neville exclaimed.

"Out," Ron hollered, seizing Malfoy by the collar of his expensive robes. "Out! We have to _leave_! Now! Malfoy, let’s _go!_ " Ron shoved Malfoy away from the tinted glass and toward the door. Neville, who'd started sobbing, half-waved at Harry without looking back as they left. 

Malfoy did look at Harry, though. He smirked at Harry's red, shocked face and grabbed his own crotch in a vulgar gesture. Harry wondered, aghast, how Neville and Ron could act so embarrassed around him while Malfoy became a cruder version of himself. Would others also make such blatant, filthy statements toward Harry over the next two days? 

Perhaps it was only Malfoy who was affected this way. Malfoy was a special kind of deviant arse after all. He was able to rile and vex Harry even under the influence of Veela allure. Props to him, honestly, thought Harry. Not even Amortentia would work on the superb git, not even the strongest love potion would make Malfoy like Harry. 

-

_Hermione!_

_The nurses finally allowed me an owl - you won't believe what happened to me! I've got Veela allure for a couple of days (how is that even sodding possible, right?) and Robards has me locked up in St Mungo’s! You’ve got to get me out! Ron just left, the unhelpful coward - did he tell you yet how he just abandoned me here! His Gryffindor card has to be revoked, honestly! Oh, but Malfoy made things even more miserable for me! He’s hatched a new plan to give me an_ ~~ _aneu_~~ ~~_anyou_~~ ~~ _aneurism_~~ _anyourism (the Muggle brain thing? You know what I mean!), so that I’ll be out cold and he can be at the top of the first year Auror cohort! It's his devious plot and I'm the only one, once again, who sees it! I just won’t believe that he’s affected more than anyone else. He’s simply threatening me purposefully because he knew I'd be so fucking riled up by it! Just imagine, Draco Malfoy lusting after me, wanting to undress me and do all manner of ghastly, abominable acts to me! I shudder at the thought! I'm so wrought up - and the nurses won't even come into my room anymore even though I'm in need of a Pepper-Up! Please come quick and save me!_

_Best, Harry!_

_PS: Can you buy some of those new Honeydukes’ Hearts on your way here? I’ve been hearing about them on the Wireless for days now and the advert is clearly working because I am dying to have some. I’d really appreciate it if you could pick some up on on your way here! Would really cheer me up!_

-

_Harry, I can’t leave the Ministry. Internships don’t work like that. Besides, you’re a Veela now; it would be dangerous for me to free you. You cannot walk around in public. This is really for your own safety. I’m all for creature rights, as you well know (see my latest accomplishments with S.P.E.W. that you and Ron continue to ignore, but that are making waves in the global movement for creature rights); however, I’m not reckless. Veelalia is extremely, sensationally dangerous and has often previously been underestimated. Just consider how Malfoy acted - Ron, rather mournfully, told me of the entire debacle in your hospital room. It was best for everyone involved that you were left alone. You might have barely escaped with your life. There is no cowardice in a smart retreat. There are surely people out there worse than Malfoy, individuals who have no inhibitions at all. Malfoy is still lacking in decency, but his behaviour has improved a lot in the last few months, and do not forget he is training to be an Auror - he would never break the Auror code and hurt a fellow trainee, no matter your conspiracy theories. Try to calm down and remember that it'll all be over in a few days. Best wishes, HJG. P.S.: It's spelled aneurysm, Harry._

-

_Hermione,_

_it’s not like I came into my Veela heritage - this isn't real, it's caused by a potion! And you're all acting like I'm a monster that shouldn't even be visited in his cell! Please come! Ron was overreacting and Malfoy was just being a wanker - I see that now. He was saying whatever to unnerve me, trying to put ants in my pants! You know how he is, always trying to one up me and mess with me. I won’t think about it anymore - and I won’t mention him anymore. Don’t think I don’t remember you telling me to quit talking about him so obsessively. I get that he’s bad for my mental health._

_Best, Harry!_

_PS: If you don’t come visit, I won’t get those sweets! Are you willing to deprive me of them!_

-

_Harry, that is not how Pseudo Veelalia works. Malfoy cannot resist the dire feelings of attraction you exude. He is not able to act like himself around you - there is no calculation behind his Veela Charm-induced desire for you. He is putty in your hands, compelled to do as you wish, and at the same time very volatile, eager to take what the allure makes him desire! You have to see how hazardous your situation is! You could make him do whatever you asked of him and he'd do it until he can't hold himself back any longer, exploding with infatuation and taking what the Veelalia makes him want by force! Same would go for me! I cannot risk your Veelalia destroying our friendship. Also, more pressingly, I have work to do. Be thankful you are locked up - consider yourself lucky. If someone such as Malfoy, who is as antagonistic toward you as you claim, desires you, then how dangerous is someone who is close to you, feels affable about you, or worst of all, someone who is your zealous fan, enamoured with you sans allure? Remember that you have many an ardent fan in Wizarding Britain who believe they have fallen for you, the entire lot of them. They would tear you to pieces if they saw you with your Veela glow! Best wishes, HJG. P.S.: I said I don’t have time! Ask Ron!_

-

_Ron!_

_Can you swing by St Mungo’s again and bring me those Exploding Bonbon Hearts that Honeydukes started selling?_

_Best, Harry, alone and isolated, cast aside by his friends, trying to guilt you into caring for me since it didn’t work with your oh so dear girlfriend!_

-

_Mate,_

_there’s no way I’m going back to see you in the state you’re in. I want to gouge my eyes out. R_

-

_Ron!_

_So what am I to do? Just sit here in my prison cell until Monday?_

_Harry!_

-

_Honestly, it’s not like you had anything planned with anyone on Valentine’s Day. R_

-

_And that was Spellbound with the fan favourite, chart-topping song Veela-be. If you Veela-be my lover, You gotta withstand my Charm, Make our Bond_ _last forever, Your forced love never ends - such a catchy tune, am I right? Want to know whose songs are just as infectious! The earworms by Celestina Warbeck, singer of hits like Boggart Girl and Goblin’s Paradise!_ _She’s here with us today in the studio - but before we talk to Celestina Warbeck about her upcoming tour, here’s a brief update on the Boy Who Lived Twice: we’ve just had it confirmed by an official at the Ministry of Magic that Harry Potter is at St Mungo’s for a routine health checkup only. What a relief! There was no incident or accident at all during Auror trainee field work and patrol practice! Officials have assured us repeatedly that there also is no insidious cover-up here! The rumours about an attack by a Continental organisation fighting for the rights of beasts have thereby been proven absolutely false! We apologise for reporting this baseless gossip! We will keep you updated with more accurate information about Harry Potter as it comes in - particularly regarding Ginevra Weasley and the new potential beau by her side. We always get many call-ins about the Boy Hero’s relationship status and whether he’ll ever reunite with his school sweetheart - but then again, we get just as many calls about the diva, the goddess, the one and only, Celestina Warbeck! Thank you so much for joining us again here at the W.W.C. One! What’s your take on the Potter-Weasley romance? As the leading love songstress of our time, what’s your opinion? Is there hope for the former paramours -_

-

Harry considered whether he should write Ginny, but quickly opted against doing so. Hadn’t she repeatedly told him not to disturb her during Quidditch training? And really, wasn’t she always training as part of the second ranking Holyhead Harpies? She better get the Harpies to catch up to the Cannons or Ron might never again shut up about his favourite team winning the league. 

He fiddled with the quill, bored, mulling over his other options. The owl hopped around on the window sill as it waited for its next delivery. The Wireless sitting there wobbled dangerously as the owl bumped against the contraption.

He could write almost any of the other Weasleys, he figured. He could also write Luna or Neville or even Dennis Creevey. He might as well write Hagrid or Headmistress McGonagall. He could write anyone, he concluded. It was up to him to still his boredom.

When he put quill to paper again, however, he wrote to Draco Malfoy. It was a bad habit returned. Sending vexing notes in school had morphed into goading memos in the Auror Headquarters. He’d perfected the craft, learning precisely how to make Malfoy scoff, snort, and laugh disparagingly. Harry had excused his devotion to writing Malfoy during all work hours, sometimes even outside them, because snarking at Malfoy was somewhat amusing. Just a little bit fun. 

Made his blood boil too, though, the pretentious bugger.

-

_To D. Malfoy,_

_You won't take first place just because I can't hand in my report today. You’re still trailing me with your abysmal marks in_ Ethics & Equality _._

_From H. Potter_

-

Harry paced the hospital room as he waited for the owl to return with a note from Malfoy. 

Would Malfoy even respond or did he know that he could exploit Harry’s impatience, annoy Harry more by not replying? 

Apparently Malfoy didn't know or had plans grander, for the owl flew back through the window within a few, albeit horridly long minutes in which Harry had begun to regret his literacy and had scolded himself for being so weak and giving in to the urge of once again writing his one true enemy a message far too friendly in tone. 

-

_Dearest Harry,_

_How I have longed to hear from you in the hours since our separation. I so desperately craved for your kind, thoughtful words as I was writing my own report. My concentration wavers as I think back to how delectable you looked in that glass prison, you Veela vixen. As I am quilling you this romantic letter, I am picturing you on your knees in front of me, gobbling down my fat cock. Ah, true love, how sweet it is to be in love._

_Truly and forever,_

_Your Draco_

_PostScript: Do you want me to forge a report for you? I promise I will not write that you went against protocol by selflessly throwing yourself in front of me when those dastardly criminals threw that potion. I'd never do that and cause you to lose marks._

-

Harry reread the letter. His cheeks were on fire and his head was about to explode. 

Malfoy _was_ messing with him. He had to be. It didn't matter what Hermione said - Malfoy was clearly resistant to the Veela Charm and was just pretending he was under its influence to fuck with Harry. 

Or, Harry considered, perplexed, was Malfoy truly not himself, fallen entirely to the Veela allure?

Harry read the sarcastic message again. It had similarities to Malfoy's typical wry and offensive writing style - just with an excessive dash of pie-eyed tripe and vulgarity. 

Perhaps Malfoy was trying to fight the effect the Veela allure had on him and was still able to menace Harry with threats of forgery, yet was unable to do so perfectly without his Veela-induced desire overwhelming him. 

Harry knew he had to write back to figure Malfoy out. Was he resistant to the Veela allure or not? Was he or not!

Though, to be fair, Harry would have responded in any case. It _was_ Malfoy after all; Harry couldn't in good conscience let him have the last word.

-

_To D. Malfoy,_

_Don't you dare falsify my report! And that's a bloody lie that I jumped in front of you!_

_From H. Potter_

-

_My dearest Harry,_

_Are you going to punish me if I write your report? I can easily envision being punished by you. My fantasies include chocolate and magical handcuffs, nothing too naughty, for my heart could not take it. You may not know this, for I hide it so remarkably well, but I am such a profoundly sensitive soul - writing to you, I already feel so close to fainting, just as you did earlier in Auror patrol practice. When I gaze into your lush green eyes, I feel lost to the stars, adrift amongst the intangible constellations. I want to drown in those pools of green, lovingly stare into them as I, over and over again, come inside you, my Veela darling._

_With much sincerity,_

_Your true love,_

_Draco_

_PostScript: Of course you jumped! You are my Great Saviour, my strong, hypermasculine protector. I swoon, my hero! Please bear my children!_

-

Harry gaped at the letter along with its lurid pink envelope, which Malfoy must have nicked for the sole purpose of further mortifying Harry, and hurled it at the wall and went to bed before the nurses even brought in his dinner. When they did come in an hour later, they woke him up with their exciting squealing. They blew suggestive kisses at him, winking, and some even wiped drool from their lips. Harry hid under the covers, trying to clear his mind and ease the thrall of his allure that was spiking because of his upset. Apparently the tinted glass pane could not block out all of his active Veela allure. 

Eventually the nurses managed to get themselves out of his room. None had been able to break down the safety glass. It was supposedly impenetrable but for medicine and food. Apparition would not work either. It’d been magically installed in such a manner that it could only be removed Monday morning, when this whole awful Veela ordeal would be over. 

However, as Harry fell asleep again, now more anxious than before, it dawned on him, that the large window next to his bed was unsecured.

-

_Breaking News at ten o’clock at night: reporting live from just outside of St Mungo’s, we’ve become privy to a new gripping piece in the Harry Potter saga. Ginevra Weasley was seen entering and leaving the hospital, coming and going mere minutes apart. She was alone - the manly conquest we believe she recently made on the Quidditch circuit nowhere to be spotted! How surprising that he would let his girl visit her former lover! More shocking: upon arrival Ginevra Weasley’s face was dry and when she left, it was streaked with tears! Blimey, what does it all mean! Just hours ago we heard from several callers that Neville Longbottom had weepingly left the hospital too! Are they all crying for Harry Potter? Is there more to the Ministry’s earlier statement? Are they lying to us or is this just Ginevra Weasley regretting her moving on from Harry Potter? We do not know, we have no clue! But that won’t stop us from speculating, will it! Here to help us dive into the mind of the rising Quidditch star is renowned Leglimens and all around insightful well of knowledge and alternative facts! Welcome to the W.W.C., esteemed Hogwarts Professor, Horace Slughorn! Before we dive in with the questions, a brief message from our sponsor: Honeydukes, established 1641, has a new, fantastic, ultra-flavourful Valentine’s Day gift for all those lovers out there! Get the Exploding Bonbon Hearts now! They combust in your mouth and let you blow heart-shaped bubbles -_

-

The next morning, Harry was awoken by a flock of birds bringing him a mountain of letters and, unenthusiastically, he began sifting through the pile. Most of it was the usual fare of fan mail:

_Dear Harry,_

_How I yearn for you, my body aches, it needs your touch, my heart beats solely for -_

_To Harry Potter,_

_Think me mad, the maddest, but I have loved you since before we even met. By the time we had our first encounter, I was already lost in you and your emerald -_

_Sweet, sweetest Harry James,_

_Has anyone compared you to the sun? For you shine far brighter and -_

_Harry,_

_I shall not wax poetic like others might. I will simply say that I am in love with you and your irresistible, juicy, round -_

With a sigh, Harry chucked dozens of love letters in the bin and drenched them with _Aguamenti_ to wash away the stench of warring perfumes sprayed on them. The water overflowed from the bin, though, and he hastily retreated, plopping back down on his bed where he’d laid out the remaining three letters. 

He opened the one that on the back of its brown envelope had Ginny as its sender:

_Hi Harry, So Ron told me what happened and, as you know, curiosity got the Kneazle. I went right ahead and tried to visit your Veela self yesterday - emphasis on tried. When I walked into your room, you were already sleeping_ _~~and I could have done unspeakable things to you then~~_ _. You could have warned me! If I fancied you even a little, I don’t think I would have been able to hold myself back, mate. Good luck, Gin_

Harry quickly scrawled a short apologetic note back: 

_Hi Ginny!_

_Terribly sorry about not warning you how bad this Veela thing is! You should’ve seen Malfoy!_

_Best, Harry!_

He didn’t really know what else to say. There was nothing else to say, was there? He hadn’t come out of the war the same person. He’d told Ginny immediately it wouldn’t work. He’d told Ron he needed time before starting something with a new bird. He’d told everyone that it was perfectly fine to not be with someone for a while. He just wasn’t interested in anyone - he fancied no one. 

Rather eagerly, but with violence, cleanly tearing the stupid posh seal off, Harry made quick work of opening Malfoy’s letter:

_My Harry,_

_I could barely sleep, for fantasies of us entwined had me tossing and turning all night. Your naked body on mine, oh sweet Salazar. Picture this: you riding me like the dragon I am, telling me how much you adore me, how you always have and were only denying yourself the perfection that is me._

_With much love for his lovely Veela spouse-to-be,_

_Your Draco_

_PostScript: You can be fucking grateful that I really did not hand in a report for you even though you chose to be so rude as to ignore me yesterday. Bully for you, I am very persistent when it comes to you. Practice makes perfect. Also, we should set an appointment for the group to practice together again for our next assignment for_ Concealment & Disguise _. You will not succeed with that flimsy Invisibility Cloak anymore, we are no longer at school, Scarhead._

Harry shook his head, having a hard time juggling the perverse nonsense and the mention of the group study sessions Ron had started when they’d all realised how difficult it truly would be to become Aurors. There was a reason why there weren’t many Aurors. It still came as a terrible shock, but Harry had to agree with Malfoy, always very reluctantly though, that they really weren’t in school anymore. 

Also, in school Malfoy had never proposed that he and Harry shag. 

Harry put Malfoy’s letter aside on the nightstand, which had itself become a continuous, inanimate reason for Harry to flush, cheeks turning bright red, and warily picked up the last envelope. He didn’t recognise the handwriting on the front, but the emblem on the back in place of the sender’s address did seem eerily familiar. He scratched the back of his head, trying to pinpoint the four intersecting initials. Was it one of the new shops in the renovated Knockturn Alley?

He began reading the letter and with each word became more horrified, recalling a letter he’d sent a few weeks ago after sparring with Malfoy in the gymnasium. He’d been pinned to the mat on his stomach, Malfoy’s knee in the small of his back, Malfoy’s breath on Harry’s nape, and afterward Harry had felt so fucking tense. He’d been so frustrated at being bested, stiff all over, leading him to, in the spur of the moment, write an enquiry to this shop, and this was their response: 

_Dear Mr Harry Potter,_

_Thank you for taking an interest in our company. We are most pleased by your attention and hope to serve you well. However, I have to regretfully inform you that we do not manufacture wand-sized tools. I will bring this issue up at the next staff meeting, for I do believe there may be enormous health benefits to targeting specific vertebrae with a wand-sized tool, though I personally have never heard of this practice before. May I suggest Transfiguring safe household items in the interim to ease the tension in your spine until we can provide you with the relaxation tool you require?_

_Sincerely,_

_Your friendly helper at Bonny & Donny’s Stress-relief & Massages (BDSM)! _

Harry put his face in his hands and groaned. If the massage shop handed out his letter to the press, Harry would be humiliated. Beetle Skeeter would completely misconstrue his request and turn it into something perverted. 

Which it was not. Clearly not!

He threw his head back and let himself fall back onto the bed. Just as he had regained some of his composure and had convinced himself that no one could actually read any deviancy in his massage tool request, the door opened and none other than Luna Lovegood let herself in. 

Her eyes sparkled when she caught sight of him and she hummed in approval. She was holding a bouquet of daffodils with a _Get Well_ tag sticking out of them. 

“Oh my, you are the most handsome Being I’ve ever seen,” she said in her sing-song voice. Her hair was twisted up into multiple buns in which she had stuck sunflowers. She was also wearing a fuzzy yellow cloak, which she promptly dropped, showing off her gaudy yellow dress. 

“I came as soon as I heard about your Veelalia,” she explained, coming closer to the tinted glass. Harry sat up and frowned at her. 

“Hullo,” he greeted her wearily. 

“It would be a shame to let your powers go untested. Do you have anyone in mind before tomorrow?” she asked innocently, unbuttoning her dress. 

“For what?” Harry asked, bewildered. 

She smiled, radiating pure joy. “For the full extent of your Veela transformation! We only have until tomorrow. I’m happy to help.”

“That’s quite alright,” Harry told her. “I don’t need to transform.”

“No bother,” she said kindly and slipped one strap of the dress from her shoulder down her arm. 

Harry stood up in alarm, nearly tipping over as he shot up. “What are you doing?”

“Giving myself to you,” she stated cheerily and pushed the other strap from her shoulder. 

He stumbled back and turned around when she began to wiggle the puffy dress down her body. 

“Why are you doing _that_! Quit it!” Harry pleaded, dismay making him shriek.

“You’re so beautiful, so _beautiful_ ,” she said and tapped the glass behind him. Instead of turning around, he moved to the bed again and grabbed all the three letters strewn on it. For good measure, he cast _Incendio_ on the wet remains in the bin, hoping no evidence survived. For anything would be misused by the press. 

Behind him, Luna started knocking on the glass and he heard the first Spells. He doubted she could break through the safety glass barrier, but he did fear she would figure out that the window was unprotected. 

“Please tell the nurses that my stay was quite pleasant!” he yelled before leaping out the window, free falling from the seventh storey.

-

_It’s a beautiful, bright Saturday morning - weather forecast says it’ll stay sunny with a good chance for love! Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and if you haven’t asked your crush out yet, it’s about bloody time, innit! Do you want them to snog someone else? Go get your Valentine, what are you waiting for, you nincompoop! Now you might say, easier said than done. You might ask, how, oh how can I make the love of my life love me without Amortentia? Well, we here at the W.W.C. One believe in grand confessions, public declarations of love, roses streaming from the skies and fairies singing celebratory songs. And if that doesn’t work, request your favourite love song and have us play it! Then hold your Wireless over your head outside your crush’s window to sway them! They couldn’t possibly spurn you then! Not how Lorcan D’Eath was spurned. You might remember this Half-Vampire from his hit song, Necks To You. And now he’s back with his new love song about a relationship gone wrong! Let’s listen - here’s Bite Me Baby One More Time -_

-

Harry, expertly, Apparated out of mid-fall directly onto the pavement in front of his doorstep. Nervously casting his eyes about the empty street, he fled to the door of 12 Grimmauld. Only once inside did he feel a tad safer. 

He locked the door behind him, checking the handle in frenzied paranoia, and went to the kitchen to put on the kettle. Kreacher had moved on, worked in Hogwarts now according to Hagrid, and Harry was never gladder for the House-elf not to be around. Harry didn’t know how it worked cross-species, but he was more than content not to find out if his Veela Charm had an effect on Kreacher.

By late afternoon, after consuming a properly unhealthy amount of biscuits and watching an erroneous quantity of silly pre-Valentine’s Day programming on his new telly, he went to wank in the shower. With the warm water pattering on his shoulders, he lost himself in the simple pleasure of tugging away frantically. 

But then his wrist started to ache from frequent use, all that Auror wand flicking, and so to hasten the process and heighten the experience, he snuck a finger or two up his arse, fucking himself until he came with a muffled moan. 

When he returned to his living room in a new Weasley jumper, pyjama bottoms, and the fluffiest socks he could find, there was an eagle owl knocking with its sharp black beak on a closed window. He swished his wand to open the window and the animal flew in, dropped an envelope on the low table by the fireplace, and stole a biscuit on its way out into the marvellously purple evening sky. 

Harry flopped down on the sofa and opened the letter:

_Potter,_

_Since you have ignored me again, let me inform you that I might die, you heartless turnip. It is not in the slightest acceptable at all for you to leave me hanging the way you are. I am suffering from your Veela allure. Suffering Most Horrifically! People have died from being deprived of their Veela mate. It is the same way a Werewolf is known to die when separated from their Mate! You ought to be taking care of me! By not doing so, my mind replays, like a Pensieve stuck in a loop, how I would stretch your hole wide and eat you out with my nasty Slytherin tongue if you let me._

_Hence, I hope to receive a letter from you very soon to discuss the next group study session and its location! Will it be at your house again or in one of those noisy Muggle tea shops? Should we ask the Auror trainee second years to help us? There are many more questions I could ask! Just respond!_

_Else I will have to keep sending you ever more erotic content. Would you like that? Do you wish me to tell you about how I want to kiss every spot on your face, lick my own come from the soft angle of your jaw, and hold you in my arms from dusk till dawn like I do in my fondest dreams?_

_Looking forward to your delightful response,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Harry’s cock hardened again, all of a sudden, very inexplicably so, but his incomprehensible arousal received opposition as a glumness rolled over him when he reread the letter. Malfoy’s message reminded Harry that, since he was a straight male, he should under no circumstances - for he was so highly, completely heterosexual - enjoy sticking stuff up his arse as he’d done in the shower. 

Even more pertinent - though it was not at all easy or straightforward to determine the important cutoff points when it came to degrees of sodomic activity - was it that he should not perk up at the thought of cuddling with Draco Malfoy. 

-

_Hermione!_

_Just wanted to let you know that I fled the hospital! I’m home and will stay here until this Veela Curse passes!_

_Best, Harry!_

_PS: Can you check if Luna is alright? She came to St Mungo’s this morning and wasn’t feeling well?_

_PPS: When you find out what Luna did, you’ll be flabbergasted. But it’s nothing compared to the filth Malfoy is writing me. He’s completely lost the plot. Even though I should feel chuffed about him having fallen for me so completely - since it is a supremely amusing thought - I feel bad for him. He’s robbed of his free will and will later regret everything he’s written me (and he’ll most likely blame me and steal my clothes from the Auror changing rooms again so that I’ll have to beg him for them back with just a towel on - yes, he’s that much of an immature twonk). He doesn’t mean any of it. I really pity_ _~~myself~~ _ _him._

-

_Harry, good to know that you are safe. Luna is alright as well. She went to find Ron at Wizards’ Wheezes and they talked about their shared terror of facing you. She said she got caught up in her pursuit of reliable information for her newest Beasts & Beings piece she’s writing for The Quibbler. Regarding Malfoy, I honestly do not comprehend your train of thought. Do you not realise or understand that your Veela allure only works when someone is within your range? Malfoy was affected when he was in St Mungo’s. He is not when corresponding with you. Best, HJG. _

-

_Mate,_

_I heard from Hermione that you wanted to know how Luna was doing. She’s alright, don’t sweat it. I walked her home from my brother’s shop and we met Malfoy in Diagon Alley - he was there with Parkinson, seemingly shopping for Valentine’s since they were both carrying pink tins, though they were very adamant they were not buying them for each other . He asked me how you were doing and I told him it’s none of his business - I think that was the right thing to say, approximately your usual level of enmity with him? I personally thanked him for diving when you fell after getting knocked out by the potion - and then even taking you to St Mungo’s! I couldn’t have carried you. The Veela Charm was too strong already - I couldn’t have touched you without something severely, atrociously unpleasant happening. Malfoy really pulled himself together then for the good of all! Anyway, hope you make it one more day as a Veela by yourself! See you Monday! R_

_PS: Can’t wait to tell you what I planned for Hermione for V-day. Let me just say it involves roses, candles, and confections! Plenty stoked!_

-

When Harry went to bed that night, he was still pondering whether Malfoy was really faking his Veela-induced attraction to Harry. Hermione had said that Malfoy should be _perfectly_ capable of writing him as he usually did - in Malfoy’s case that meant derisive messages with jabs at Harry’s intelligence. Ron had informed him that Malfoy had even brought him to St Mungo’s without trouble while everyone else was too affected. 

Could it really be true that Malfoy was just doing all this to mess with Harry? Why would Malfoy? Just to elicit a reaction from Harry? To drive him mad? Wasn’t Malfoy at all embarrassed by the bollocks he’d written?

Perhaps Malfoy just had such thick skin that he could just overcome his pompous dignity for the purpose of humiliating Harry. If so, if Malfoy had played Harry the sodding fool, Harry would have to somehow get back at Malfoy as soon as the next opportunity arose. Harry didn’t have a choice in the matter - he couldn’t leave a Malfoy matter alone. He never would.

-

_The Daily Prophet, ed. Fourteenth of February, 1999. Written by Rita Skeeter_

_Valentine’s Day Top Ten Tips on How To Get Harry Potter (Or A Less Heroic Lad) To Fall For You!_

_One, Smile! Boys like it when you smile. Never be disagreeable or -_

_Four, Be open about your feelings. Honesty and submission are key -_

_Ten, And lastly, do not forget to wear something revealing. Don’t be a Hag! Boys care only about one thing and you better -_

-

Harry woke up around midday on Valentine’s Day, head filled with sexual nightmares. 

After a quick rinse in the shower, no fingers slipping where they mustn’t go, and after a hearty breakfast of biscuits and warm milk, Harry settled in front of the telly again. He was tempted to see if his Veela allure had faded yet, go out to see if anyone fell for him at first sight, but the Muggle entertainment kept him lazy and glued to the sofa. 

It was around tea time, or rather the unspecified time in the afternoon when he put the kettle on, that the doorbell rang. He scowled in the direction of his front door, not immediately concerned that someone sinister had found his Unplottable house. 

“Who’s there?” he called from the kitchen. 

Instead of calling out a response, the person rang the doorbell again and Harry sighed heavily as he trudged over to the front door. He peeked through the spyhole and there was stood, who else, Draco Malfoy, in all his smug glory. 

“What do you want?” Harry asked through the door.

“You,” Malfoy said curtly, fixing his hair. 

“Why?” Harry took in Malfoy’s dark outer robes, his tight green suit, and the bag slung over one wide shoulder. Malfoy looked overdressed. Like he was to go on a Valentine’s Day date. Harry scoffed - who’d go on a date with Draco Smirking Prat Malfoy?

“Why are you not opening the door?” Malfoy asked him, tapping against the wood of the door frame. 

“I cannot trust you to be in control of yourself around me,” Harry replied sarcastically. 

Malfoy laughed. “I see.”

“What do you want?” Harry repeated. 

“I stopped by St Mungo’s yesterday and they told me you had escaped. Weasley was no help either,” Malfoy explained. 

“And now you thought to come by my house. What great Auror work.” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “That still doesn’t answer my question: what do you want?”

“I just came to check on you,” Malfoy offered. 

“Why?”

“I was worried?” Malfoy shrugged. 

“Why?”

Malfoy kicked the door lightly. “Can you just open the door, Potter?”

“No,” Harry told him. “Because you will jump me and do all those things, you know, from your letters, you promised you’d do to me.”

Malfoy leaned sideways against the door, so that Harry could only see the profile of his long nose through the spyhole. Malfoy said quietly, but with humour, “I swear I’ll behave.”

“Are you just here to find out when we’ll practice for _Concealment_ -”

Malfoy cut in, “No, I am here because your Veela Charm is irresistible and I am suffering, Potter! I am _in pain_ and I need to see you - I am most desperate, my heart aches! I can’t make it until tomorrow!”

“The Veela allure will be gone tomorrow. Just stick it out,” Harry said leaning against the inside of the door. 

Malfoy whinged, “Are you really going to make me suffer like this? All weekend long you ignored me -”

“I didn’t -”

“You cannot understand how I feel! I need to be with you, Potter! I need to be near you.”

“What do you -”

“Forget all the vulgarities - I can control myself, I swear. I just want to spend time with you,” Malfoy said, despondent, veering on shy. “To ease the pain in my heart.”

Harry bit his lip and said sourly, “I’m not thrilled about admitting it either, but, hate to break it to you, we spend time together, like, _all_ the time.”

“Not like this,” Malfoy lamented. 

“Like what?” Harry asked. “With you under the Veela Charm, lusting after me? Being falsely attracted to me?”

“Yes, so let me in, please.” Malfoy huffed, exhausted. 

“That makes no sense,” Harry concluded. 

“Are you... scared, Potter?”

“No,” Harry snapped, still firmly convinced that Malfoy was lying about being affected by the Veela allure. After all, it shouldn’t work through the door like this. Malfoy couldn’t see him. Veela Charm was not a scent thing, and, in any case, he’d washed up earlier. 

Harry stepped away from the door and flicked his wand to open it. Malfoy had no time to straighten from his leaning position against the door and he fell sideways into Harry’s arms. 

“What a welcome,” Malfoy muttered, sounding all too chuffed, into Harry’s shoulder before pushing away. 

“You shouldn’t be able to resist me,” Harry told him as they moved to the kitchen. Harry made them tea, no milk, no lemon, and it was all far too natural, went without a hitch. Malfoy had been here a few times now, studying for Auror exams. Never by himself, though. There’d always been other Auror trainees around too. So it shouldn’t be this simple and normal for Malfoy to show up and just _be here_ , fitting in with the Black tapestry, no matter his own ancestry. It wasn’t supposed to feel _fine_ . Harry self-consciously pulled at the sleeves of his orange jumper, wishing he could change into something that didn’t feature a giant _H_ on it. Did he even have any classy clothing, though?

“I should not?” Malfoy asked dubiously. “Are you certain you want me to _not_ hold myself back? To just let myself have at you?”

Harry glared at Malfoy over the rim of his tea cup. He took a sip, burned his tongue, but said through the pain, “My Veela allure, it's supposed to knock you off your feet.”

“I am,” Malfoy said with a smirk that made Harry’s knees knock together. “I am utterly in your thrall.”

“And you want to fuck me over the table, that kind of thing?” Harry asked, flushing. 

Malfoy let his fingers dance over the dining table. “Yes, I think about it all the - I mean, I’ve thought about it all weekend. Because of your Veela Charm.”

“And now you’re here,” Harry said as they walked to the sitting room. Malfoy stalked over to the fireplace, discarding his robes on an armchair, and Harry dropped down on the sofa again. 

“I brought you this,” Malfoy said, throwing the leather bag he’d come with at Harry. 

“What is it?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Malfoy told him, not elaborating. 

Harry opened the bag and inside it was a tin heart. It was pink and the Honeydukes logo was printed on it in fanciful gold lettering. 

“You bought the new Exploding Bonbon Hearts,” Harry said, having a rough go at hiding his excitement. “Are they any good? They’re apple-flavoured, right?”

“Have not tried them yet,” Malfoy said. “I bought them for you. You mentioned them last week during training.”

“For me?” Harry asked as Malfoy approached him carefully. 

“I’m under your Veela Charm, remember? I’d do anything for you.” Malfoy sat down on the sofa. He left enough space between himself and Harry, but even if the whole Atlantic had been between them, Harry still wouldn’t have been able to breathe easily. 

He didn’t know what kind of mind games Malfoy was playing. They were an advanced sort that made little sense to Harry. Malfoy wanted Harry to believe that he was under the Veela allure. He gave Harry Valentine’s sweets. Malfoy said he was barely holding himself back from jumping Harry, that he wanted to do _bedroom stuff_ with him. Why would he say these things? What was Malfoy’s ultimate goal?

Did he intend to get Harry to kiss him only to laugh in Harry’s face, calling him a queer?

Well, if Malfoy could that, so could Harry. Two could play mind games, two should tango. 

-

_Harry, I just wanted to comment on my message from yesterday: I understand now that it seems as though Malfoy is purposefully writing you dishonest letters to get under your skin. I feel that I carelessly didn’t give you the advice you were seeking. Let me make up for it now: I think you should give Malfoy some credit. Certainly, he should be castigated for his prank letters, but at the same time, he has turned over an apparently sincere, new leaf. He has his pleasant moments, Ron tells me. I think you should be less harsh with him, there’s no use in fighting with him anymore, is there? He might be acting out because he, in truth, wants to be on friendly terms with you. You tend to deny this when asked directly whether this is the case, but Ron has confirmed my assessment that you have had quite a trove of amicable days with Malfoy. Often you apparently have your heads together to discuss Quidditch and compulsively coordinate defence tactics to impress the Veteran Aurors running_ Best-Laid Plans _. I believe it would be a right crime then to let this new camaraderie go to waste just because you feel bothered by some droll letters. Consider my words. Always wanting your best, HJG. P.S.: Ron turned out to be the most romantic lad in all of Witching Britain! You will not believe him, the sweet tart! I woke up to find rose petals all over our flat and a path of candles that led me to Ron tied to our couch with pralines on his -_

-

“Don’t you want to have one?” Malfoy asked him. 

“Not now, no,” Harry said furiously, finding that his being mad at Malfoy stemmed from the git sabotaging that they’d actually sort of gotten along rather well recently. Alright, fine, Harry thought ever more angrily, he had good banter with Malfoy. He laughed with Malfoy, laughed at his self-disparaging comments. He enjoyed Malfoy’s company. Nothing wrong with that, wasn’t a fucking crime. Didn’t mean he liked Malfoy.

Also didn’t mean the superb prick could ruin their tentative truce by tricking Harry in this ridiculous and vicious manner. 

“I would really like you to have one, though.” Malfoy shot him a mockingly sorrowful look. “I am suffering so. Your Veela attraction is killing -”

“Alright,” Harry exclaimed. “If it’s fucking killing you, then go ahead! Be my guest!”

“Be your guest?” Malfoy asked, confused. “To die?”

“No,” Harry said, twisting around on the sofa to face Malfoy. “To do what you wish. To me.”

Malfoy just stared at him when Harry grabbed him by the collar. 

“You’re suffering so much because of the Veela Charm, so I’m giving you permission to get some satisfaction. Otherwise you’ll send me more nonsensical letters and whine at me endlessly,” Harry rambled. 

“What are you saying?” Malfoy asked. “That you want me to kiss you?”

Harry snorted. “ _I_ don’t want anything. _You_ want it.”

“Because of the Veela allure, yes,” Malfoy said. 

“Precisely,” Harry said, not believing a word Malfoy said. Malfoy would back out now. The knobhead wouldn’t go through with it, hadn’t planned that Harry would outmanoeuvre him, turning this dare around on him.

Malfoy laughed nervously, ears turning pink. “So, you’re going to kiss me to help -”

Harry put his mouth on Malfoy’s, spilling hot tea from the cup he was still holding all over his hand and the ancient carpet as he did so. He put his other hand on Malfoy’s thigh for balance as he leaned over - and still he only landed on Malfoy’s mouth with half of his own. 

Malfoy let his own tea cup fall and slapped Harry’s out of his hand too. The cups rolled under the sofa, clattering dully, whilst Harry’s heart hammered maniacally. Harry gasped against Malfoy’s mouth, into the kiss, and closed his eyes when Malfoy put both his hands on the back of Harry’s neck. Harry slumped forward, his tongue slipping between Malfoy’s lips, and Malfoy shifted so Harry could kneel between those long legs he’d dreamed about just last night. 

Harry squeezed Malfoy’s thigh, digging his fingers in, and Malfoy moaned into his mouth. 

“Harry - I mean, Potter,” Malfoy said breathlessly. 

“What?” Harry asked, struggling valiantly not to kiss from Malfoy’s cheek up to his ear - and failing. It was a close fight, but he lost anyway.

“Thank you for doing this, this means the world.” Malfoy laughed, a besotted sound, and moved his arms down, hands wandering to and fro before Malfoy wrapped them around Harry’s waist. “I couldn’t have gone another day insulting you instead of doing this. Not a day.”

Harry licked the outer shell of Malfoy’s ear and Malfoy let his hands stroke up and down Harry’s back. 

“I like this,” Malfoy whispered, craning his neck to kiss Harry’s throat. “I like this a lot.”

When Malfoy nipped at Harry’s Adam’s apple and then proceeded to kiss it so bloody affectionately, Harry pushed away from Malfoy, sitting up. 

“Wait,” he said, his glasses completely askew. He set them right and stared at Malfoy and his dishevelled hair, pure smile, and flushed neck. How far down did the redness go? Harry wanted to tear all of Malfoy’s clothes off. 

“What?” Malfoy asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“The Veela Charm,” Harry said. 

“Yes, the reason we are doing this,” Malfoy supplied as he began to unbutton his shirt. 

“If that’s the case, then you don’t actually want this,” Harry said, watching Malfoy’s fingers work. 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him as more pale skin was revealed and Harry thought it not odd to wish to prostrate himself before this tantalising patch of skin, pray to the fair space between Malfoy’s collarbones. 

“And why does that matter? You’re enjoying yourself,” Malfoy said plainly. 

Harry knew what Malfoy was about to do based on the bland tone of his words, a telltale sign of Malfoy’s brand of edgy humour. Despite knowing so, Harry still wasn’t fast enough to stop it from happening, too dizzy was he from the snogging: Malfoy’s hand shot down and grabbed a hold of Harry’s exhilarated assets. 

“See?” Malfoy asked with a dirty smile. “That is fond enjoyment I feel.”

Harry slapped his hand away and Malfoy laughed before capturing Harry’s mouth in a tingling kiss again. Harry was crushed into the sofa, stomach flipping and doing pirouettes as Malfoy’s hands fiddled with his waistband. He felt like he had atrophy of the bones, so much were they like jelly, and his heart swelled, stung by thousands of bees. 

“I don’t want to do this,” Harry muttered, shoving Malfoy back with much difficulty. Should it be this hard? Until mere minutes ago he hadn’t known what Malfoy’s lips felt like on his own, those hands on his hips. Harry ought not to miss the sensations already. He despised the arrogant git. He did, didn’t he?

“You do not?” Malfoy asked, blinking his moon-coloured eyes at Harry. His expression turned morose and he licked his lips. Harry followed the movement of that pink fiend. 

Malfoy continued rather weakly, “I assumed we had established consent -”

“You wouldn’t want this if you had your wits about you! It is the bloody Veela allure - you would never want this if your free will were intact,” Harry said, feeling clarity of mind suddenly, and also an incredible sense of loss and panic. 

“What was I bloody thinking!” Harry tried to get up, but Malfoy held him back, holding his wrist with one hand. The other was fishing for the Honeydukes tin that had fallen to the floor. Tea was spilled on it, but the bonbons inside didn’t appear ruined. 

Malfoy looked away, couldn’t hold Harry’s gaze as he popped one of the candies in his mouth, blushing furiously. There was a soft explosion in Malfoy’s mouth that made them both jump and then from between Malfoy’s pink lips, bubbles escaped. Harry tore his eyes away from Malfoy’s kissable mouth to the letters in the floating rainbow cacophony of heart-shaped bubbles. 

-

_Don’t turn off your Wireless, but here’s once again a message from our main sponsor, maker of the best sweets in all of Britannia: Honeydukes’ new, fantastic, ultra-flavourful Valentine’s Day candy! Buy them now and give your crush Honeydukes’ Exploding Bonbon Hearts today! They’re fruity goodness that combust in your mouth and lets you blow heart-shaped bubbles which will explode to spell the name of the person by whom you’re lovestruck!_

-

“Want one now?” Malfoy asked him. 

Harry was shaken out of his reverie. He glanced back at Malfoy and Harry flushed with embarrassment. He took the candy Malfoy offered without protesting and prepared himself to show Malfoy, and himself, the secret confession he kept locked in his heart. 

The Exploding Bonbon Heart burst as he chewed on it and when he opened his mouth, heart-shaped bubbles flew out. 

Malfoy smirked, ears ever more pinkening, and Harry, clammy hands and weak knees, laughed hopelessly. Above them was a whirling sea of their names. 

-

_Harry - Draco - Harry - Draco - Harry - Draco - Harry - Draco - Harry - Draco - Harry - Draco - Harry - D_ -

-

“It could be fraudulent candy,” Harry tried. “You know how these new products are. The adverts say one thing and really it might not actually work.”

“I agree,” Draco nodded knowingly, bumping his shoulder against Harry’s. “It might just show the name of the person next to whom one is sitting.”

“Or the one you last kissed,” Harry offered.

“Hm.” Draco put his head on Harry’s shoulder as he gazed up at his own name, birthed from Harry’s mouth. 

“What a daft sweet,” Harry returned, revelling in the plentitude of _Harry_ hearts come from Draco’s mouth floating above them. 

“Just another cog in the machine that is the commercialisation of Valentine’s Day,” Draco joked. 

Harry laughed, head spinning. Malfoy leaned up and put a hand on the back of Harry’s neck to pull him into another swoony kiss. Harry felt it from his fingertips to his kneecaps and back. His tongue delighted at the fruity flavour of the Bonbon Hearts. 

“How are you immune to my Veela Charm?” Harry asked when they broke apart, saliva connecting their lips.

“I’ve always been immune to your charm,” Draco said with an enchanting smirk as he wiped the spit from both their mouths.

“Stop making light of this,” Harry said, laughing again and punching Draco in the arm.

Draco grimaced and said, “Alright, alright, do not be such a foe.”

“I’m not - you are,” Harry countered childishly. 

“I have never been immune to your charm - that’s the simple truth. I always feel the same way around you, no matter what you are: Veela, self-absorbed idiot, or Wizarding hero,” Draco explained, voice growing soft. 

“How romantic,” Harry told him, flushing hotly. “So you came by to trick me into -”

“No, that is your assumption because you think the worst of me -”

“I do not!” Harry exclaimed. “You are nefarious, and have devious cheekbones, and a smirky mouth!”

“I shall not apologise for the structural composition of my face,” Draco said, pretending to be peeved. 

“I like your face - that’s not the point,” Harry barked at him. “Your intention was to trick me -”

“No, it was not! I came here for a completely different reason!” Draco got up from the sofa and walked to the fireplace. He pointed at Harry and said, “It _is_ true that I wished to mess with you a little bit, but can I not have _some_ measure of enjoyment from my unrequited love?”

“It is not unrequited -”

Draco cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Then you should have done something about it earlier.”

“Become a Veela sooner, so you could pretend the allure was the reason you wanted to fuck me over a nightstand?” Harry asked, voice drenched in feigned scorn. 

“That stuck with you, did it?” Draco laughed and leaned against the side of the fireplace, casual, shirt hanging open. 

“No,” Harry lied. 

“Also, you were the one who tricked me!” Draco accused. “You knew I was faking my being afflicted by your Veelalia and your intention was to trick _me_ -”

“I was just testing you and your commitment to this sham! It was obvious that you were just trying to make a fool of me,” Harry complained. 

“Was I?” Draco asked so earnestly that it rang false. 

“I was going to show you up, beat you at your own game,” Harry told Draco. “See how far you were willing to go with your vile scheme.”

“Vile scheme? You were going to see how far I was willing to go? I am willing to go _far_ , Potter. Very far, in fact.” Draco snorted. “You could have asked me to suck you off on your doorstep and I would have done it.”

Harry laughed. “I would have let you.”

“How crass, Harry Potter,” Draco said, mischief dancing in his grey eyes. 

Harry got up as well. He didn’t bother with covering his erection, the bulge clearly visible through the thin material of his pyjama bottoms. “I’m only stooping down to your level.”

“Thank you for your kind words. As always, I cherish them.” Draco sniffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Appearing most perturbed, he watched Harry slowly make his way toward him. 

“Can you truly not guess why I really came by?” Malfoy asked, voice low. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” Harry stopped in front of Draco, looking at the moon-eyed pillock. 

“Certainly, but no. I came because I knew you had spent almost two full days by yourself, locked up in a small room. During lunchtime at the Auror cafeteria, you once shared about your growing up - many lonely nights in a cupboard,” Draco said carefully, treading lightly on the tense subject. 

“Do you listen to everything I say to use it against me later? To convince me that you’re a caring, nice bloke?” Harry asked, reaching for Draco’s arm. 

“I like knowing things about you. I like finding out new things, learning who you are,” Draco said with a shrug. “Almost as much as I love nettling you. That filthiness would get to you, I knew. Never expected such positive results, though.”

“So you really were pretending to be under the influence of the Charm not to fuck me, but to fuck _with_ me?”

“You don’t have to put it like that,” Draco told him with a slight scoff. “I did want to fuck with you, also. And be near you. I never expected anything else but spending an afternoon vexing you.”

“You do love vexing me.” Harry nodded, feeling warmth pool in his gut and snake up high into his chest too. 

“I love you,” Draco Malfoy said to him in the least jesting, jibing voice Harry had ever heard from him. Harry put his arm through Draco’s and Apparated them up to his bedroom. 

“Alright, fine, I love you too,” Harry said with a laugh as he pulled his jumper over his head. 

Draco stumbled back and hastily shielded his eyes with an arm and whispered, as though in awe, “I am feeling it now.”

“What?” Harry said and pulled Draco toward the bed. He quickly pushed the dirty clothes discarded on the side on which he didn’t sleep on the floor, before not too gently placing Draco on the edge of his bed. 

“The Veela Charm, it’s getting stronger now,” Draco said with difficulty.

“Look at me.” Harry pried Draco’s arm off his loathsomely handsome face and Draco blinked up at him. 

“You are…” Draco licked his lips and Harry waited eagerly for a compliment, just one induced by his Veela Charm from Draco would do. 

Earnestly, Draco whispered, “You are standing on my boot.”

Harry punched Draco in the arm again and as Draco snickered and tried to protect his eyes from Harry’s glow and glare, Harry pushed him back onto the bed, crawling after the berk he so fancied. 

-

_The Quibbler, ed. the Fourteenth of February, 1999. By Luna Lovegood_

_Veela for Valentine’s Day-Special: Uncovering Veela Mating Tendencies (Includes Interview with Quarter-Veela Fleur Weasley)_

_How does the Veela choose a Mate if everyone wants to Mate with the Veela? I myself am overwhelmed enough when I am forced to choose the specifications for a new pair of Spectrespecs. The Veela has a far more difficult choice. Will the Veela choose the first human who throws themselves at her? Quite the opposite, faithful readers. I would like to propose the theory that the Veela will choose as their Mate the One who poses a threat, a challenge, who pushes back against their innate superiority. In this essay I will explore -_

-

“Is this not moving a little too fast?” Draco asked, sounding frightened. Harry had left him but his pants. The rest of his clothes had been tossed on the floor, and Harry himself was fumbling the elastic band of his Muggle pyjama bottoms down his hairy legs. 

Draco stared at him, pie-eyed, eyes sweeping from the rug on his chest down to his crotch, as Harry ultimately managed to kick the trousers off and toss his glasses off too. He kneeled beside Draco on the bed, poignantly nude, not sure how to go about things but feeling unparalleled enthusiasm, and, as a natural gentleman, gifted with a superior sense of instinct, took Draco’s hand and put it on his own cock. 

“I like it fast,” Harry told him and started making Draco’s hand move on his cock. Draco shivered, his eyes jumping from Harry’s spectacle-free face to his cock. Precome was making the head slick and Draco swiped at it with his thumb. 

“A nice, quick wristy would do the trick right now,” Harry whispered, shifting so he could lie next to Draco. He let go of Draco’s hand and, fortunately, it went about wanking him on its own, and did so very skillfully, Harry found. 

“Want it to be over so soon?” Draco asked, leaning over Harry to snog him, to steal his last breath and brain cell. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders and bucked into his hand, urging Draco on. 

“Just shut up and make me come, Malfoy,” Harry grit out as Draco pushed his own crotch into Harry’s thigh. Harry’s breath hitched at the first touch of another man’s cock and because their legs were entangled, he had an easy time of it, rubbing his skin up against Draco’s silky pants. 

“You know, you can touch it with your hands,” Draco informed him when the pants were drenched and precome dripping through them onto Harry’s leg. 

Harry began pushing Draco’s underwear down and asked sarcastically, “And do _you_ know that I want you to put a finger up my arse already?” 

Draco made a pathetic sound, a depthless grunt of a whine in the back of his throat and abandoned his excellent work on Harry’s cock to kiss him, both hands in Harry’s hair, smearing precome in it. In retribution, Harry, who had gotten Draco’s pants down to his knees, was torturing Draco, only letting his fingers dance just above that cock that haunted Harry in his sleep. 

Draco seemed to be too overcome by this teasing, however, and he sat up and turned, and swiftly, with a wicked deftness and will, spread Harry’s legs, holding them apart by the knees, exposing Harry’s hole to Draco in all its virgin holiness. 

“Only one finger?” Draco asked and Harry’s eyes fell to Draco’s manhood, nestled in a mess of blond curls. 

“I can do more than one finger. Yeah, definitely,” Harry said, already feeling a phantom stretch, and Draco let Harry’s legs fall around his own and there he kneeled, if his reverent expression were believed, in front of his personal altar. 

When Draco used his long reach to cup Harry’s chin and followed the angle of his jaw with his hand, Harry felt Draco’s cock press against his balls. He ground down on the prick and Draco hummed happily, sticking two of his fingers in Harry’s mouth. 

Harry sucked on Draco’s fingers ecstatically, rapturously and, since his delight about having sex could not be contained, he awkwardly reached between his own legs to get a feel for Draco’s cock.

It seemed an honest miracle that Draco didn’t come right then based on the shudder that went over him, appearing to wreck the man’s soul. 

Draco removed his fingers from Harry’s mouth and sucked on them too, not because they weren’t wet enough, but since he seemed to want to partake in Harry’s spit. This was not minging to Harry at all. It was quite erotic and wonderful, in fact, and led Harry to pulling Draco down for another kiss, tongue fucking in and out between Draco’s puckered lips, and they both dissolved into laugther when their cocks touched another. 

“This is so absurd,” Draco mustered to say, holding himself up above Harry. “Us? Doing this?”

Harry laughed again and made Draco fall on top of him with his full weight. He relished this feeling a lot, being pressed down by Draco’s body. 

“We aren’t doing much yet,” Harry told Draco as they humped against one another like dogs in heat. 

“We’re doing something - something phenomenal, and I am amazed by it,” Draco told him, panting, out of breath, his hard cock slick against Harry’s. 

Harry didn’t have any complaints and so they rutted against another, one of Draco’s hands sneaking up and over Harry’s chest to pinch his nipples, pushing Harry into shaky, mindless territory that should have been explored longer, but then they came on each other’s stomachs, Draco gazing loving down at him, Harry sparkling with Veela allure. And if, when in the moment Harry climaxed, wings grew out of his back and feathers were launched across the whole bedroom, Harry barely noticed, so wholly preoccupied was he with Draco wiping their abdomens and then slicking up Harry’s hole with their come. 

Draco fucked his fingers into Harry with speed and precision, and Harry held onto Draco’s shoulders as he was delivered to bliss’ shrine, close to his next orgasm by the stretch and fervour showcased alone. Draco let him flounder just at the tipping point, occasionally pressing down on the blasted, spark-inducing spot inside Harry, in this way holding Harry in a state of terrifying pleasure, in a place like paradise reborn, before Draco removed his fingers and replaced them with his, as promised, fat, throbbing cock. 

Harry babbled incoherently about giving Draco an Outstanding for size and an even better mark for his gentle conduct, and Draco answered this with the murmuring of sentimalaties, the kind of sappiness that was sweeter than hot chocolate, softer than marshmallows, into Harry’s mouth until they were both ready to move. 

There was no nightstand action that afternoon, but Harry’s mattress got a proper workout, its springs groaning, and the bed’s headboard slammed into the wall, rattling all the empty portraits in the corridor outside. All its denizens had left, complaining that Harry’s Blood attitudes and Muggle approach to life made him a depraved paragon of immorality that no Slytherin of proper upbringing would accept. Simply put, they left because of the telly.

Not that Harry minded, obviously not. He would’ve been dreadfully embarrassed for them all to hear him moan uncontrollably as he was doing now, filled up deep with Draco Malfoy’s prick. His wings thrashed, wild, untamed, as Draco set a relentless pace, one he had a hard time maintaining. His balls slapped against Harry’s arse with every thrust and it was the most erotic, sweet sound Harry had ever heard. His nails dug into Draco’s back, his rim was stretched beautifully, and his smile gave radiance to the whole room as Draco pounded him hard and with proper feeling. 

Harry screamed his climax, the Veela allure making him glow and shimmer like a comet, and Draco very nearly howled, his moan sounded so breathy and drawn out, when Harry clamped down on his cock as he came. 

After Draco had pulled out, Harry touched his stomach and brought some of Draco’s still wet come, mixed with his own, up to his lips for a first tasting, and even though he wasn’t able to make a resolute call on the quality yet, Draco said, all soft and exhausted, “You are insane, I love you,” and kissed him, spreading their taste and that of the rainbow Bonbon Hearts from one mouth to the other and back. 

Harry broke the prolonged snogging to wandlessly _Scourgify_ most of their sweat and the mess they'd made on and in each other before snuggling into a position in which Draco had a comfortable hold on him despite the massive wings, and then Harry asked, heart still thrumming like a Snitch’s wings, “How did you know that your name would show up on my Bonbon bubbles? How were you not scared to bring them?”

Draco snorted and kissed the top of his head. “I certainly did not know my name would reveal itself. I really, simply wanted to know who you fancied.”

“But you assumed,” Harry stated, brushing feathers that again fell on his skin. He helped rid Draco of a few more of his feathers too, only to quickly give up given the amount, and so instead pulled the duvet over their spent bodies in an approximation of modesty.

“I hoped,” Draco said. “I hoped the whole - oh, you know, the myth of teasing is a sign of affection. I hoped it had a small kernel of truth to it. That my vexing you had the same motivation as you irritating the fucking life out of me.”

Malfoy pushed hair stuck to Harry’s forehead away, tracing the lightning scar there. He continued, “I so sincerely wished that your squabbling with me was not because you truly hated me anymore.”

“I never did, I never hated you. I didn’t, I swear.” Harry kissed one of Draco’s collarbones, licking perspiration from the hollow above it. “I’ll level with you: the amount of time it took me earlier to decide to kiss you was embarrassingly short.”

“How long did it take you to decide on bringing me to bed for a brilliant shag?” Draco asked with a charming smirk. 

Harry lied, “I pictured it for a few weeks now. Definitely not longer than that.”

“Ah.” Draco smiled, pink blossoming all over his cheeks and neck. 

“I was terrified - I preferred bickering,” Harry explained. “I didn’t want to let you get to me, especially these past months during Auror training. I dreamed of you enough.” He scrunched up his nose in mortification. “Fuck, I stalked you even in my dreams, I’m so obsessed with you,” Harry admitted in a rush and pressed his head against Draco’s chest. The heartbeat there was more significant than anything Harry had ever heard. That, along with the slap of sex, skin on skin, balls and cock, was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard and, rather unorthodoxically, his cock twitched with interest again as he listened to Draco’s heart pound incessantly and Harry’s hole, still wet and plenished, yearned to be filled again, the reddened rim fluttering in craving anticipation of another round. 

He wanted to demand that Draco get back to it, to stretch him wide again, fill him up proper, perhaps this time with his roguish, shrewd tongue, but then decided on something more trite to say: “I fucking love you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, whatever. Likewise, same to you,” Draco returned, biting Harry’s neck affectionately, leaving a pretty love bite in his mouth’s wake. He added another, teeth and tongue involved in the good-natured harassment of Harry’s neck. Harry laughed, joyous at the soft Sunday domesticity he was experiencing for the first time, and after an appropriate amount of lazy kissing, Harry even somehow, inconceivably, convinced Draco to watch the telly with him. 

They fell asleep wrapped in blankets on the sofa downstairs, cuddling, eating Bonbons, watching Muggles kiss on the television. Harry’s Veela wings Vanished by morning. His charm, according to Draco, didn’t fade even a little bit.

-

_Mate,_

_did your Veelaness dissipate yet? I'll Floo over around midday and we can head to the Ministry together._ ~~_Hope you're not naked and doing something nasty on your couch! Just kidding, but you never know! Anyone could be doing anything on their couch, even Hermione and I!_~~ _R_

_PS: About Malfoy. If you want, I can talk to him about what happened. Figure out whether he was lying about the Veelalia affecting him or not. He likes talking about you anyway._ ~~_If I didn't know any better, I’d say he can't shut up about you because he’s enamoured with you or something. Only, if that were the case, then I don’t think there exists even a term vast enough to encapsulate how bloody, madly besotted you are!_~~

**Epilogue**

_The Quibbler, ed. the Twentieth of February, 1999. By Xenophilius Lovegood_

_Harry Potter Involved in Beasts and Beings Rights Campaign: He Says Veela Rights, We Say We Need More - Featuring Interview With Still Elusive and Mysterious Creature Rights Army from the Continent: Find Out About C.R.A. Plan to Take Over Britain And Why They Are Not the Next Death Eaters Despite Their Attacks!_

-

_Witch Weekly, Eighth Issue of 1999. By editorial team_

_Harry Potter’s New Best Mate: Former Death Eater Scum! Inside: Exclusive Photospread of Harry Potter Holding Hands with Draco Malfoy in Public, Showing their Modern Masculinity and Touchy-Feely Friendship - Will They Go Down As Wizarding History’s Unlikeliest Pair of Pals!_

-

_Hi Harry, So I suppose since you were publicly canoodling with your very good, close male friend, I should tell you that I have a very good, close female friend?_ _~~Though my very good friend is not anything like Draco fucking Malfoy! Bloody hell, mate! Good luck with that massive prick!~~ _ _Good luck with your boyfriend, Gin_

-

_The Daily Prophet, ed. Twenty-Eighth of February, 1999. By Rita Skeeter_

_To Beast or Not to Beast: Auror Trainee Left St Mungo’s After Horrific Potion Attack, But Sharp Beetle Eyes Inform that He Was Now Seen Drinking Wolfsbane!_

-

_Patient File: Draco Lucius Malfoy._

_Patient has contracted temporary Lyca-_

-

_The Quibbler, ed. the First of March, 1999. By Luna Lovegood_

_In Heat by Full Moon: Werewolves and their Soulmates (Includes Interview with Werewolf C.R.A. Leader - Who Plans to Show Every Bigoted Briton With Experimental Potion Warfare What it Means to Be a Creature So As To Change Inhumane Laws!)_

_Tonight is another beatific full moon and Lycans, as you my dear readers know, go into Heat under its luminous glare. Their drive to fornicate with their Soulmate becomes overwhelming, their lust insatiable throughout the night as they pound their submissive Soulmate and Mark them with their bite. There are many misconceptions about this to debunk, particularly regarding consent and the existence of knotting. In today’s article I will explore -_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3


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